Demon's Nightmare
by Aspermoth
Summary: What you find in this demon’s nightmare... Genfic, some angst, rated M as a precaution for violent themes. Oneshot.


**Title:** Demon's Nightmare  
**Summary:** What you find in this demon's nightmare...  
**Genre:** General  
**Word Count:** 672 words  
**Author's Note:** This is technically the first piece of wrestling fanfiction I've written (I'm ignoring the Sue-fic, it didn't exist). I hope this isn't too bad.**  
Disclaimer:** I do not own the WWE or any of its wrestlers. Therefore, I'm in Vince McMahon's pocket, as we all are.

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_What haunts a monster's dreams?_

He lies still, unable to move, arms trapped at his sides and legs pinned together, utterly still, staring up at the sky with mismatched eyes. Surrounded on all but one side by unyielding surfaces, he stares up, lying still, the exit to his prison right before his face, but he cannot use it. He watches, paralysed, as the sky above changes from day to night. He knows where he is; he always knows.

His eyes roll from left to right, looking at what he can see from his restricted point of view. Flowers. There are always flowers. They hang low over his face, as white as bleached bone, mocking him with their serenity. It's quiet in the box, the cheap pine box with splintery sides. In the dead man's box, he lies still and soundless.

A coffin haunts this monster's dreams.

_What does the fearsome fear?_

The fearsome terrify all they meet. But are the fearsome fearless? What do they fear?

A face appears in his field of vision, a man's face. Green-eyed, dark-haired, mocking. His half-brother. He itches to climb out of his prison and beat the man down, but he can't. He never can. His brother smiles down at him in sadistic pleasure and he feels a stab of fear. Not a strong one, but definitely a stab of _fear_. Not an emotion he has reason to often feel. Powerless, he stares up at the man who has complete control.

His brother moves out of sight, leans over. He can hear the sound of something large being seized from the ground with undue eagerness. The man looms back into vision, a flat piece of wood - a coffin lid - in his hands.

He hears his brother speak and the words chill him.

"Rest... in... peace..."

He knows what will happen next - the same thing that always happens. The lid descends on him, blocking out both the light and his half-brother's triumphant face until only darkness remains. The three hated words ring softly, bitterly, ominously, in his ears. _Rest in peace_...

This fearsome being fears his own flesh and blood.

_What's in a demon's nightmare?_

Alone in the dark. No longer paralysed, he tries to push open the coffin lid. The lid is immovable, as always, and the darkness is complete, stifling and suffocating him. There is nothing but the feeling of splintery wood on his bare arms and back, and the sound of his breath hissing softly in and out of his lungs. But then a new sound grows. A strange crackling, popping sound that starts to grow louder, second by second. A familiar sound that terrifies him to the core of his warped and broken psyche.

Fire.

The base of the coffin falls away with a rough screeching of nails parting from wood and it is consumed. His feet are suddenly bathed in light and heat. He looks down at the golden glow at the end of the box, and the laughing, flickering flames. He can hear them whispering to him, malicious words of memories that blend together and blur into fear. The surface beneath him shudders; the coffin begins to creep slowly into the flames.

And he is a boy again, trapped in the burning house, death on all sides, ready to destroy him. He starts to beat against the lid of the coffin, but it refuses to move - the only exit is into the fire.

Like hunger given form, the fire crawls up the coffin, gnawing away at the wood. The head is unbelievable, unbearable. He struggles hopelessly as his feet begin to burn in their boots. The flames cackle, hissing that this is good, stroking his legs with pain before leaping onto them. He can see the fire that is eating away at his legs, searing into his flesh. He's burning alive. He screams.

This demon's nightmare is fire.

And that is when Kane wakes, heart thudding, throat raw, but safe, safe from the nightmare. Until tomorrow night.

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Cross-posted to my LiveJournal under FalconWhitaker. 


End file.
